


Mycroft Holmes' Left Buttock

by ClassyGirlsWearPearls



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Shmoop, So fluffy my teeth ache, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyGirlsWearPearls/pseuds/ClassyGirlsWearPearls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gregory Lestrade finds something interesting on Mycroft Holmes' hamstring. As always, you probably shouldn't take me too seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mycroft Holmes' Left Buttock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MystradeSexyTimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystradeSexyTimes/gifts).



> For MST, the only person in the world who knows my true identity, because I promised her a tattoo fic once my semester was over but she was having a really shitty patch and I decided to take a little while to write the end of this.
> 
> My deepest and sincerest apologies to ACD, Mofftiss, and anyone with a stake in this beautiful franchise that I've tainted.

Mycroft was floating. It was a ridiculous way to describe the way he felt, but it seemed appropriate for the sensation he was currently experiencing. Lestrade was pressed up against him on his couch, licking his way around his mouth He hadn’t kissed like this in years, and it was making him lightheaded beyond anything he could have imagined.

 

Mycroft broke off with a slightly obscene moan and Lestrade attacked his neck and began unbuttoning his shirt, baring more skin for him to run his hands across and giving him a space where he would be able to nip and leave the bruises he wanted to imprint on Mycroft’s skin because God forbid that Mycroft Holmes have a hickey above his collar. He had finished sucking two large marks next to each other when Mycroft placed his hand on Lestrade’s chest. “Bedroom, I think.”

 

“Mmmmm,” Lestrade nodded enthusiastically, not breaking off.

 

“I believe you must allow me to stand up if we are going to move, Gregory,” Mycroft panted, running his hands up and raking them through Lestrade’s hair, pressing him closer to his chest.

 

“You aren’t making it exactly,” Lestrade moaned into his neck.

 

Mycroft gasped, and then managed to push him away somehow. “Enough,” he moaned. “Take me to bed. _Now._ ”

 

Lestrade actually ran down the hall to the bedroom. Mycroft followed a bit slower, chuckling and walking slightly awkwardly. As soon as he got into the bedroom, the door was slammed shut and Lestrade was pushing him up against it and quickly divesting him of all of his clothes. They were soon naked and stretched out on the bed, and Lestrade was quickly taking control.

 

“Roll over,” he panted. “I want to try something.”

 

Mycroft stiffened. “Gregory, are you sure-”

 

“Just trust me,” he replied with a soft smile.

 

Swallowing thickly, Mycroft nodded and turned. Lestrade’s breath caught.

 

“You have a tattoo,” he sighed.

 

“Yes,” he muttered, ashamed.

 

“You have an owl just below your left arse cheek,” Lestrade moaned.

 

“Is this a problem?”

 

Lestrade replied by kissing it softly and then moving up to bite the skin. Mycroft yelped and then gasped, “Do that again.”

 

Looking back on it, they both realized they got off embarrassingly quickly, but the thought of Mycroft Holmes having a _tattoo_ spurred Gregory Lestrade on to the point where he didn’t care how quickly either of them came, as long as there was another opportunity for them to try later that night.

 

When they were finished and lying down, Lestrade on his back and Mycroft on his front, sweating and panting, Lestrade managed to sputter out, “You have a _fucking tattoo_ , Mycroft Holmes. How am I just finding this out right now?”

 

“I had it done in a place where I knew nobody except those worthy of looking at me completely exposed would see it. I don’t tell people about it, rather I prefer for them to discover it. It makes it easier to see who is being judgmental of it in the heat of everything. Your reaction was… most unexpected.” He inched up and placed his chin on Lestrade’s chest and rubbed his hand over his stomach.

 

“I just- we’ve been together for five months and I can’t believe that I didn’t see that,” Lestrade sighed, shaking his head.

 

“You were the one who asked to take things slowly…” Mycroft reminded him gently.

 

“Yes, well, wasn’t that my loss. Here I was thinking I was being a gentleman and letting myself get out of an emotionally fragile state so I didn’t cock this thing up, but all along I was missing out on this lovely little piece of art on your upper hamstring.” Lestrade reached down and squeezed the flesh just above the tattoo, and Mycroft let out a little yelp. Lestrade giggled.

 

“Laughing at my pain, _honestly_ Gregory, what am I going to do with you?” Mycroft chastised him, trying to look stern but with a smile in his eyes and the skin crinkling just around it.

 

“I have it on good authority that you like a little bit of pain in this area,” Lestrade reminded him. “I seem to recall someone with a certain tattoo of an owl asking me to bite him over and over again just a few minutes ago.”

 

“Slander,” Mycroft countered. “I won’t be subject to such disgusting accusations.” He moved to roll away, but Lestrade caught him and pulled him close, laughing.

 

“You’re adorable,” Lestrade laughed, running his finger along Mycroft’s nose from the space between his eyebrows to the tip of his nose, then tapped the tip once before returning his hand to Mycroft’s side.

 

“I will leave,” Mycroft attempted to growl.

 

“I’m sure you will,” Lestrade shot back, his voice full of mirth.

 

“You underestimate me.”

 

“I’ve fallen in love with you.”

 

“I refuse to say it back if you’re being insufferable.”

 

Lestrade sighed. “You’re impossible.”

 

“Yes, and you love it,” Mycroft responded.

 

“God help me, I do,” Lestrade smiled. The lay in silence for a few minutes until Lestrade asked, “Why did you get it?”

 

“Youthful rebellion,” Mycroft replied. “Sherlock is a marvelous artist in media other than the violin, and when he was younger he said he associated me with an owl because I spent the time I didn’t spend with him perched in a chair and staring wide-eyed at books. He drew this when he was twelve and I was going off to university and asked me to keep it somewhere close. I kept it in my desk, and when Sherlock began to slip, I had this put on me so I could always have a bit of him with me.”

 

Lestrade held him tighter. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

Mycroft scoffed. “I am not _sweet_. I’ll have you know that I am thoroughly intimidating and many people find my presence terrifying.”

 

“Aren’t you lucky that I’m not one of them,” Lestrade smiled.

 

“I count myself lucky every day,” he responded.

 

Lestrade blushed and kissed him. “I’ve fallen in love with you,” he sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Mycroft’s ear.

 

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Mycroft responded against his lips. He kissed Lestrade again and then pulled away a bit. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a closer look at it, and maybe while you’re down there you can have a go at whatever you were going to try before you got so distracted?”

 

“Of course, my love,” Lestrade whispered back against his lips, pressing himself closer to Mycroft and tangling their legs together before they managed to pull apart so Lestrade could focus on more important things, such as tattoos.


End file.
